He grumbled, kicking a rock down the cobblestone street. So that lashing, the one that wasn't deserved, would have been received anyway. Of course, the star female violinist had gone missing, and Len was sent to find her. The freckled child and the delicate girl had returned in bad shape ---- she had a hand mark encurled around her porcelain wrist, bright red against her pale skin, and his body had been already been bruised, kicked at, and sore.
Though, he supposed, for pissing off Putrid Piko in the company of a gentle lady, he deserved his lashing. But they couldn't have waited until he was less sore? Groaning softly at the soreness in his body ---- mainly, his hands and bottom ---- the freckled child moved slightly sweaty, pretty little strawberry-blond locks from his eyes, chewing on a bun. Looking up at the eyes of two different people, he raised a brow, slowly chewing on the bun.
